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For Michael and I, this
was our fifth and last hillwalk during our trip to the Northern
Highlands. From start to finish, the walk took a staggering 33 hours 35
minutes. This included a couple of extended rest stops amounting to
several hours sleep en route, so 33 hours was not the total walking
time. We still went for a long time, far longer than I ever had before.
The previous day, we'd climbed Conival and Ben More Assynt in the
morning, followed by driving to Ullapool and climbing
Stac Pollaidh in
the evening. In Ullapool, we booked into the Ceilidh
Place Hotel before deciding to climb the Fisherfield Munros over the
next two days. Having been slowed down by hours of walking over the past
couple of days on very little sleep, it wouldn't be a route we were
going to complete quickly. We'd have two days and that was ample time
The next morning, I awoke at 6am. The room was very comfortable
(especially after a couple of rough nights under a tent), but I was
up and about and met Michael. We were on our way fairly soon and stopped by the garage in Ullapool for
the trips supplies before driving on towards Dundonnell.
At Dundonnell, we packed our gear, which took a considerable amount of
time. This included making sure all our walking gear was with us (we'd
thrown it into the back of the van to escape the Stac Pollaidh midges)
as well as bringing camping gear - sleeping bag, mat and tent.
Dundonnell to Beinn a' Chlaidheimh, via. Shenavall
We got going at 8.55am, following a rough track upwards into the valley.
To get to Beinn a' Chlaidheimh, we'd have to climb out of Glenn
Chaorachain, go over the top of the moorland, descend 300m to Shenavall,
then commence climbing Chlaidheimh essentially from sea level. The track
from the Dundonnell lay-by followed a gentle gradient upwards, which
offered a pleasant walk alongside Allt Gleann Chaorachain. An Teallach
was above, but we would only see glimpses of it's spectacular ridges
along the way.
We emerged onto the high moorland, where a cairn marked the high point
of the track. The sun was coming out too, but the Fisherfield peaks were
still caught underneath heavy cloud. At the cairn on the moorland, we
turned off the track and followed a rough path beneath Sail Liath,
beginning the descent to Shenavall. The path then funnelled into a small
enclosed valley before emerging out at Shenavall below.
We took some time to look around Shenavall and left our camping gear in
the hallway. Others had reserved just about every other room, so the
hallway was next best to camping outside. It was nice to finally see Shenavall
having heard about it for a long time, even if some of the comments were
more along the lines of 'shithole'. In it's present form, I wouldn't
have expected much different from a bothy. With our camping gear dropped
off, we headed on our way to Beinn a' Chlaidheimh with the intention of
getting back before the day was out. I knew our route was long but
reckoned that we could get back even if it was the middle of the night.
A path took us to the river - known as Abhainn Strath na Sealga - which
is well known for being uncrossable at times. Given that there's no
bridge, the best option seems to be to pull the boots off and wade
across barefoot or with sandals. The water level was very low today, so
we could get across by jumping from rock to rock. This is apparently a
rarity but even with the low volumes of water it wasn't an easy crossing
and trekking poles undoubtedly came to good use.
Once on the other side of the river, we headed towards Beinn a'
Chlaidheimh in the direction of a ramp running up between the cliffs.
Below, the terrain was tussocky and quite boggy. Higher up, a mixture of grass and boulders. The northern slopes were
steep, because we didn't want to go all the way eastwards as far as
to get out of the way of the crags.
We then arrived over the top of the steep slopes and onto the more
gentle eastern slopes. From there we were in cloud and continued to be
so all the way up to the top. After another brief steep climb, we found
the north ridge, and followed it over the north top all the way to the
summit where we arrived at 3.15pm, a long 6 hours 20 minutes
after we started out. The previous days must have really taken their toll...
Sgurr Ban
There wasn't anything to see on top of Beinn a' Chlaidheimh so we
continued south towards Sgurr Ban. We skirted past the south top and
then down to the bealach below where we met two people - the only people
we'd see for many hours. We also found that now out of the cloud, most
surrounding mountains were in the sunlight with cloud dappled around
about. The views while they were there were actually quite beautiful.
To get to Sgurr Ban, it was a long ascent up boulder fields that would
take us all the way to the summit. We ascended into cloud once more, and
followed the white stones (hence the name 'light peak') up to a small
summit plateau where there we came upon a cairn. Just another cairn in
the mist, I suppose! I felt it was a bit of a shame to see these peaks
in the mist, because I presume the views must be quite spectacular,
especially towards An Teallach to the north. But there would be plenty
more walking yet, plenty more opportunities to see the landscape.
Mullach Coire Mhic Fhearchair and Meall Garbh
Next was the highest hill of the Fisherfield Six, and one which I
turned out to have some fondness of. It isn't a large hill - 1019m high
- but has the appearance of being much higher. It is also fairly steep
sided so would give an entertaining ascent. A small path brought us down
Sgurr ban to the bealach, where we arrived still in cloud. But as we
climbed Mullach, the thick clag was beginning to dissipate and we
climbed in an odd light, half way between cloud and sun. In the mist,
with diffused shadows.
The initial slopes were very steep and loose, enough for Michael and I
to both dislodge some of the hillside as we went. The gradient eased off
a little higher up, and we followed the steep boulder field upwards. The
whole place felt slightly out-of-this-world, and I owed this to the way
the sun interacted with the clouds, casting a blue tint and muted
shadows across the white boulders.
We arrived at the top 6.15pm, and we were both aware that in a few
hours, the day would be drawing to a close. But it didn't bother us and
we kept on going as planned. After a couple of minutes at the top, we
descended the other side, following a beautiful ridge downwards. We'd
descended a long way before I realised my trekking poles were missing.
Michael realised that they'd been gone for a while, and my last
recollection was having them on the summit. Michael continued to descend
while I slogged the several hundred feet back up to Mullach's summit. If
there was any plus side, I got to ascend by a few nice ridge, and I
arrived at the summit for the second time, where a pair of trekking
poles were lying on the ground. Back down I went.
On the way, I became disorientated and began to wonder if I'd gone the
way I came up. It was a problem for five minutes, but I emerged from the
cloud, got my bearings, saw Michael below and was very relieved to know
I hadn't walked off the wrong side of the hill. I could have saved
myself a lot of trouble if I hadn't left the trekking poles behind...
Once we'd descended Mullach Coire Mhic Fhearchair, Beinn Tarsuinn was
next on order. First of all though, we were presented with Meall Garbh,
a notch in the ridge that comes in as a Corbett Top. I generally enjoy
climbing what tops I can, so I climbed to the top and descended again,
while Michael skirted around it on the bypass path. We both met on the
other side and took a couple of minutes rest before beginning to the
walk to Beinn Tarsuinn's summit.
Beinn Tarsuinn
Beinn Tarsuinn was easily the most photogenic summit of the trip. It was
from it's summit that we saw the sun set across the western hills, and
it produced some spectacular results. The terrain leading up to the
summit was all easy walking, but the views were breathtaking. We could
see the three Munros we'd climbed over and An Teallach to the north,
wrapped in mists. Slioch was to the south, and a vast untracked land lay
to the east. Beinn Lair's northern cliffs were beautiful - they dropped
two thousand feet to the lochs below and formed one great wall, unbroken
for several kilometres. Vistas in every direction were mind-blowing,
absolutely spectacular. It was such a place to be and I couldn't be
happier.
It fascinated me that I'd found myself on one of the most remote Munros
at sunset, and couldn't see a single road or building. Nightfall was
approaching and we had only bivvy bags for shelter but I felt absolutely
confident. We were happy to navigate over the next two mountains in
darkness and although I'd considered descending into Glenn na Muice for
the night, Michael was confident that the best way was over the tops. I
didn't complain either, because walking by night is an experience in
itself.
Though caught up among some of the most beautiful of scenery, I gave
some thought as to how I found myself here, in a position that I would
have scarcely dreamt of being in as little as two years ago. I had a
definite feeling that I'd made a lot of progress.
A' Mhaighdean (in the dark)
But even with the beauty of the sunset, we were aware that we'd have
to get going and cover as much ground as possible before nightfall. We
spent perhaps ten minutes on top of Beinn Tarsuinn, but continued onto
A' Mhaighdean via. it's spectacular west ridge. There is some scrambling
involved in negotiating the knobbly ridge, and we descended to a table
like feature of flat bedrock suspended in the air. As the first obstacle
on the ridge, we couldn't help but climb onto it's flat top and marvel
for a moment at such geology.
After some moments of very enjoyable scrambling (and steep drops) we
left off the crest of the ridge and walked along the bypass path to gain
as much time as possible. We then descended the slopes of Beinn Tarsuinn
when the gradient eased off and headed in the direction of A'
Mhaighdean. The bealach connecting the two mountains is only just above
500m, so there would be a considerable amount of reascent on the other
side. The bealach below was a broad and obviously a boggy place,
although largely dried out during our passing.
It was here that the light also began to fade and we climbed the slopes
of A' Mhaighdean in increasing darkness. The ascent to the summit
involved climbing many vertical metres, although I don't remember it to
be much of a slog as we climbed into the darkness. Once we'd gained some
height, we found the southwest-facing cliffs and knew that we could
follow them all the way to the summit.
I had two torches on me, although both were relatively dim. Michael had
a brighter head torch (much more suitable for the circumstances...) and
as I walked in front, able to vaguely see the ground in front, Michael
stopped me and shone his torch on the ground a couple metre or two in
front of me revealing a cleft in the cliffs reaching inwards, crossing
my potential path. I didn't see it then and probably would have
continued not to see it, but a fall down that little gap would have left
me a lot more metres lower down from where I fell. Caution was to be
called for, mistakes could easily be made and if we were going to follow
the cliff line, I was going to make damn sure I knew I wasn't going to
step into thin air.
We'd ascended into the cloud by this time, and could only make out vague
shapes through the dark. Still, walking with the cliff-edge in sight
turned out to work and we arrived on the summit of A' Mhaighdean at
10.40pm. It was marked by a small cairn and cliffs fell immediately away
to the west. We spent about five or ten minutes on top, taking pictures
(flash necessary) and being glad to be up here. Furthermore, A'
Mhaighdean is Scotland's most remote Munro, and to climb it in the dark
was special.
Descent from A' Mhaighdean and Bivouac
The next thing we had to do was to descend from A' Mhaighdean
towards Ruadh Stac Mor. We left the summit cairn, heading on a path
towards the north subsidiary top. This path vanished, but we walked
around the east side of the summit dome then came to a large cairn that
sat on top. We took a quick break here, firstly to check navigation, but
secondly because the cloud had just cleared. The moon was also out and
offered us some light in an otherwise dark landscape. The views were
quite striking and illuminated were not only the mountains but bands of
cloud around about us. Sadly, I couldn't take any photographs (although
I attempted to) but the memories remain. I suddenly had an impression
that we were being granted a glimpse into another world, standing from
our viewpoint high on a plateau with moonlit and clouds mountains around
about. Mullach Coire Mhic Fhearchair and Beinn Tarsuinn were silhouetted
given that the moon was high about the south eastern horizon, and
although I could sit and watch the views all night, we had to move on. I
was tired now too, and rolling out the bivvy bags and lying on the
mountain top seemed like a nice idea. We'd been walking for over 14
hours, so a rest seemed like a nice idea.
But with these views still present, we began to scour the summit plateau
for signs of a path on. We'd began walking back in the direction of the
main summit when a path led down the eastern slopes. It was often
difficult to keep on track with a path, but the presence of one in the
first place was of great help. Then at 770m, we lost it. We arrived at a
point where we had the option of a couple of gullies to follow and the
path seemed to go neither way. We scoured for footprints or signs of a
way to no avail. At one point we found my footprints having walked in
circles. So we had to make a decision as to which way to walk. In
hindsight, going right would have been the best option to allow us to
arrive underneath Ruadh Stac Mor, but without hindsight, we went left,
and followed a gully downwards.
The gully became fairly steep at points and we'd occasionally be on all
fours, down climbing small sections to get to easier terrain below. By
this point, the clouds had come in thicker and we couldn't see Ruadh
Stac Mor. We hadn't seen if once, but if we had, I'm sure our situation
would have been a lot easier.
We climbed beneath the cloud, and I could tell that we were descending
into a west facing corrie. At this point Michael and I had some
disagreements as to where we were, but I could visualise the topography
in my head. If I were right, we should be descending towards Fuar Loch
Mor, but of course I couldn't see anything right now. The opposite side
of the valley should have been Ruadh Stac Mor, but of course there were
no views and very little to tell us where we were.
We had climbed past the steepest ground and we emerged out onto a
flatter area of grass and bedrock. I was still convinced we were near
Fuar Loch Mor, but the landscape revealed little to us. We walked down
the corrie, following a stream until we came to what seemed to be a very
large drop. And as I approached, it was a big one too - there was no
ground in front of me anymore, just black empty space. I seemed to be
walking towards the edge of a very large cliff and if so, it threw the
loch idea out of the window - there were no dramatic drops around Fuar
Loch Mor. I began to wonder where the hell must we be until I edged over
a little more. Suddenly I saw the water edge just a metre beneath my
feet and now there were no cliffs or dramatic drops. We'd found the
loch.
So now we knew where we were, how should we proceed? There was a
stalkers path perhaps 50 metres above the loch shore that contoured
Ruadh Stac Mor. If we could find it, it would be easy sailing from
there. Stalkers paths are well built and well represented on the OS
maps. I climbed the hillside to find the path and Michael stayed by the
lochside to see if he could find a stalkers path leading up from the
lochside. We'd be a small distance apart, but we agreed not to go out of
sight of each other.
I climbed up the bank and after about 50 metres, still couldn't find
anything. I was still on steep ground, although didn't want to go out of
sight of Michael either. From up here, he seemed to be some distance
away. We continued to search with no results until the light from his
head torch disappeared around a corner. And it didn't come back. I knew
we couldn't get separated, so I stood on the hillside shouting Michael's
name over and over. I didn't move from my spot, but just stood in the
darkness and listened for signs. I wasn't sure what to do, and no one
came. I considered what to do, still shouting when the glow of a
headlamp appeared over the hillside alongside me.
It was Michael, and thank god for that...
We changed tactics and went down to the lochside, where we could follow
the outflow to the stalkers path. But down by the lochside, we were both
tired and not on top form. We needed sleep and the night was almost
windless and not too cold. We passed a boulder with a comfortable
looking spot beside, and put down our rucksacks. We would bivouac here
and wait until the light returned. I pulled out my bivouac bag, took my
boots off for the night and positioned my rucksack to use as a sort of
pillow. It was hardly ideal but once inside, I felt relatively
comfortable, and able to nod off to sleep. It was 1.50am and over three
hours since we left A' Mhaighdean.
Ruadh Stac Mor
Michael awoke first, and was already up and about by the time I
awoke at my alarm time of 4am. I didn't wait around either. I'd had a
jacket zipped all the way up with a hat on, so the midges had an area
across my eyes and nose to feast on. My bivvy bag was made of plastic so
by the time I woke up, it was dripping with condensation inside. I would
have been drenched too had I not been wearing waterproofs. Last of all,
I was very cold and shaking violently when I woke up. It was time time
to get going so I packed away and joined Michael on the slopes above.
I'd had only two hours sleep, but it made the world of difference. And
as the day dawned, the mountains were clear of cloud. A' Mhaighdean and
Ruadh Stac Mor were right in front of us. It now seemed odd to have made
such a fuss in the dark since we could see so clearly now. We climbed up
the side of Ruadh Stac Mor where we came upon a stalkers path - well
built and well defined. It was all so obvious now, and since the hills
were clear of cloud, we decided to go for Ruadh Stac Mor's summit, the
final of the six Fisherfield Munros. We dumped the rucksacks by the path
and went on our way.
We ascended the scree slopes at the northern end of the hill and while
Michael made a steep ascent on rock, I contoured further east and
climbed a steep gully of grass and scree. It was a very exhilarating
scramble, but on exceptionally loose ground where a fall would have been
bad news. I was shovelling the scree down sections I was yet to climb
just to clear up the route and when I emerged at the top, I was more
than happy to be done. Michael appeared a minute later and told me of
his equally exhilarating climb.
To the north the clouds glowed red with the sunrise, but it wasn't to
last and today we'd only see cloud blanketing the sky. From where we
stood, we'd have a walk just short of a kilometre to gain Ruadh Stac
Mor's summit. Following a brief walk up the mountains spine, we arrived
there at 5.50am. Cloud was now covering many of the Munro summits, so we
didn't stay long and were on our way after five minutes. But now we'd
climbed the Fisherfield Six, a group of Munros I didn't think in a
million years I'd do so soon.
Now for the long walk back...
Descent from Ruadh Stac Mor, to Shenavall then Dundonnell
We took the short, sharp route off Ruadh Stac Mor by following the
path southwest to Poll Eadar dha Stac, the bealach above Fuar Loch Mor.
We headed north along the path to collect the rucksacks, then followed
the path from there for the long kilometres back to Shenavall. It was
going to be a long way.
We walked north for about a kilometre before turning right at a junction
to head in the direction of Gleann na Muice Beag. The path then
descended into this glen, and then emerged out on Gleann na Muice. Beinn
Dearg Mor was always above us, standing with magnificent stature and An
Teallach was making an appearance today too. We walked north up Gleann
na Muice as far as Larachantivore, where we crossed the Abhainn Gleann
na Muice (again, without taking boots off) and then crossing the very
boggy ground in the direction of Shenavall. Rain was starting to fall,
but for now it was just spots and we crossed the Abhainn Strath na
Sealga, arriving back at Shenavall at 10.35am. It had taken quite some
hours to arrive here from Ruadh Stac Mor, but this leg of the walk had
probably been the least memorable.
Once at Shenavall, I pulled out the sleeping bag and met I'd left there
the day before, and spread it by the fire which we lit to dry boots and
socks. I didn't wake up for several hours and got a comfortable sleep on
the floor. It was also a chance to dry my feet off, for they'd been in
wet boots for many hours. When Michael and I woke up, a family of four
arrived with their two dogs, and we packed away our gear, aiming to get
back to the van within the next couple of hours.
We finally got moving at 3.20pm, and climbed up the path from Shenavall
onto the moors above. The weather was fairly calm when we left, but the
wind picked up and the rain began to fall very heavily in large droplets
that would have left us soaked in no time if it hadn't been for our
waterproofs. My rucksack (with all the camping gear on the outside) had
no waterproof cover, so the contents got fairly wet.
The weather battered us all the way up to where we met back with the
track but eased with time. The urge to get back to the van was strong,
and we descended into Gleann Chaorachain where we finally met with the
van at 6.20pm three hours after leaving Shenavall. We drove to Ullapool,
firstly to enquire about a room at The Ceilidh Place Hotel, but they
were fully booked. We had dinner at The Arches (macaroni cheese and
chips would do me) before heading off after 9pm, bound for Glasgow.
Probably not the best idea.
We slept in the van multiple times on the way down the A82 - two one
hour breaks then a longer sleep lasting a few hours. Michael eventually
dropped me home around 8am before heading home himself. It was
absolutely wonderful to be home after such a trip, and I slept
endlessly. I'd also picked up some kind of bug on the way from Ullapool
to Glasgow, and this put me in bed for a few days. I believe this was
mixed with exhaustion, but I can't be sure.
Still, it was such a wonderful trip. In total, Michael and I climbed ten
Munros as well as an attempt on a Graham. (Stac Pollaidh) A big thanks
to Michael for the company, and also to Martin and Michael Kerrigan
during the Northern Highland Munros.
Panoramas
360˚ panorama from Beinn Tarsuinn
360˚ panorama from Ruadh Stac Mor
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